


Unfinished Business

by juliafied



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Anal Fingering, Exhibitionism, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Oral Sex, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Semi-Public Sex, Sexual, Smut, Teasing, risk of getting caught
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-08
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-17 16:33:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,846
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29720052
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/juliafied/pseuds/juliafied
Summary: "She can’t help the sly grin that spreads across her lips as Vivienne once again goes through the plan to seal some particularly large Fade rift in the Emprise. Aenye asks a tedious question that she knows will keep Vivienne occupied for some time, feints with her left hand to idly play with a marker on the map, and brings her right hand under the table to rest lightly on Solas’ inner thigh."Aenye Lavellan loves to tease her favourite Inquisition mage, sometimes in the middle of war room meetings, especially after he's left her unsatisfied since the morning...
Relationships: Female Lavellan/Solas
Comments: 6
Kudos: 26
Collections: Nobody Expects the Dragon Age Smutquisition





	Unfinished Business

**Author's Note:**

  * For [StarsAndSkies (LittleMissWrath)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleMissWrath/gifts).



Solas is arguing with Vivienne in their evening council meeting again.

“No, it is _you_ who does not understand! The Fade is far too thin there for what you propose. I cannot believe you would argue for such a thing.”

Oh, how Aenye Lavellan loves the slight wrinkle between his strong brows, the defiance in his shapely jaw, that he gets when he argues. The authority in his voice, too, sends a little shiver down her spine as she leans against one of the pillars in the war room, watching.

“And what do _you_ think, Inquisitor?” It seems Dorian has joined the fray, and now all three of the Inquisition’s mage allies are staring at her: Solas, heated, Vivienne, smiling tightly, and Dorian, vaguely amused.

She merely smiles amiably, not willing to admit she has not been paying particular attention. “I think we should sit down. Vivienne, could you go over the details one more time? Using the map if you don’t mind?”

Aenye tries to focus after they cross the room to sit down in the high-backed chairs at the war table, Solas next to her and Dorian and Vivienne across from them, but she can’t help but think about the way Solas left her this morning. Namely, gasping and clutching at the sheets in her bed, and thoroughly unsatisfied, after he had abruptly removed his head from in between her legs. He had flashed her a wicked smile and murmured something against her thigh about an early morning meeting in the library. Ass.

Now, however, she can’t help the sly grin that spreads across her lips as Vivienne once again goes through the plan to seal some particularly large Fade rift in the Emprise. Aenye asks a tedious question that she knows will keep Vivienne occupied for some time, feints with her left hand to idly play with a marker on the map as a distraction, and brings her right hand under the table to rest lightly on Solas’ inner thigh. His back stiffens ever so slightly at her touch, and desire, reawakened from the morning, pools in her stomach as she moves her hand up his leg.

He subtly raises his eyebrow but does not stop her palm, instead turning to challenge something Vivienne has said. Aenye keeps moving her hand and her breath catches as she feels the twitch of his cock through his thin linen leggings. He is half-hard already, and she can see the slightest blush starting to colour the tips of his ears.

Solas makes a show of moving a figurine across the map for just long enough to lean in and breathe incredulously into her ear, “ _Vhenan_ , here?”

“Yes,” she says firmly, in response to a question Dorian has posed, but keeps her eyes fixed firmly onto Solas’. Blessed Creators, she sees that he can barely stop himself from squirming in his seat.

With Solas distracted, the argument seems to resolve quickly enough, and Vivienne looks pleased. Aenye dismisses the meeting, though she does not miss Dorian’s pointed look at her as he and Vivienne leave the chamber. She wonders how much he saw, and it sends a tremor of excitement down to her stomach. When the door is shut behind them, she turns back to Solas to see that he is standing, palms braced on the table, eyes dark with lust.

He licks his luscious, full lips.

“Come here,” he says roughly. Another quiver of desire shoots through Aenye at his commanding tone, and she smirks.

“Can I help you with something, Solas?” she asks innocently, as she languorously stalks towards him. “Are you not pleased with the plan made today?”

He chuckles, though his eyes are still intense. “I daresay you’re pleased with _your_ plan. I should not have left you this morning, I think.”

She comes around to his side of the table, and is satisfied to see his cock, fully hard, straining against the tight leggings. She licks her lips, now, staring at the bulge in his pants. He follows her gaze, quirks a brow, and closes the distance between them, one hand grasping her buttocks, the other on her waist.

“I could taste your sweetness like honey on my tongue all day, _vhenan_ ,” he murmurs in between kisses, breath hot in her ear, his voice smooth as the silk of her bedsheets. Her thighs quiver. “I crave it still.”

Brusquely, he grasps her shoulders to turn Aenye around, such that she can feel his hardness pressing against her ass, and his hand travels under her loose peasant shirt to grasp her breast, fingers pinching her erect nipple. She lets out a little gasp, tingling heat building at the crux between her legs, as he presses his hard cock against her and gently bites her earlobe. She is vaguely aware of the fact that she has another meeting with her advisors scheduled here in half an hour’s time, but this does nothing but stoke her desire further. She imagines Cassandra’s pretty blush, and a soft moan escapes her lips.

Solas hums his approval, and while his one hand toys with her nipple, the other drops down below her breeches and into her smalls. He quickly slips a finger inside of her – she clenches around him, but he is gone too soon. The fire there screams to be quenched, but she knows that he will take his time with her, and she loves him for it. His hand releases her breast and goes to tangle in the roots of the long blonde hair at the back of her head – he turns her head so that she can watch him as he licks his long, pale finger.

“So wet,” he murmurs hoarsely, a note of wonder in his voice. “ _Vhenan_ , should we—”

“No,” she gasps, eyes closing. “Here. Now. _Please_.”

A smirk plays across his lips as he realizes what she wants from him. “Patience, my love.”

In one smooth movement, he lifts Aenye by the waist and sets her on the war table. Some of the pieces scatter with the sound of metal on wood, but she does not care, because soon, his quick, dextrous hands are untying the drawstring of her breeches and pulling them, along with her smalls, downwards to gather at her ankles. She reclines onto her back, and he hums, content, as he sits on one of the chairs and pulls it up so that his face is level with her thighs.

Slowly, excruciatingly slowly, he trails kisses all the way from her knee to her inner thigh, and just when she thinks he might finally put his mouth on her clit, he withdraws again. She barely stops herself from begging, now, and braces against her elbows so as to draw her ass forward, bringing herself closer to him. He looks up at her, the picture of self-control, brow arched.

“Can I help you with something, _vhenan_?” he says primly, echoing her earlier words. “Is there something you desire?”

She is about to plead, but then Solas’ tongue finally meets her clit, and she lets out a gasp so loud that she thinks Josephine might hear it from her office. Her eyes fall closed as his tongue flicks at first gently, and then insistently, against her sensitive nub, and before long her thighs begin to tremble against his shoulders. At that, he withdraws once more, and Aenye whimpers at the rush of cool air against her clit.

Thankfully, it is a short reprieve, only lasting long enough for him to slip one, and then a second finger inside of her. His mouth returns to her nub and he curls his two fingers inwards in tandem with long, intense sucks on her clit. Before long, a third finger finds her other opening – she opens her eyes and meets his questioning gaze, giving a tiny nod – a moment later, his finger is in her ass. This almost sends her over the edge, and she cannot stop her thighs from squeezing shut around Solas’ ears. He stops almost immediately, lapping one or two more times at her clit before withdrawing entirely. She is almost ready to scream from the teasing, and scrabbles to minister to herself – he catches her wrists effortlessly, rising to hover over her, one knee on the table, pressing his lips to hers. She meets his tongue with her own, tasting her sweet nectar on his lips, and squirms for something, anything to rub against her swollen clit. He evades her, instead lifting her shirt with his free hand to pinch one of her nipples.

“You are so beautiful,” Solas whispers, brown eyes boring into her own, impossibly calm. “Do you want it?”

“ _Yes_ ,” she pants. “I _need_ it.”

He stops for a moment, considering, and raises his eyebrow. She can feel his hard cock against her thigh. “Show me.”

He lets go of her wrists.

She scrambles off the table and drops to her knees, onto the thick Orlesian rug at their feet. Before she can undo the belt at Solas’ waist, he stops her gently, and glances towards a basket of extra cushions in the corner of the war room.

“One moment.”

He retrieves one of the thicker pillows, crouching down to place it under her knees and taking the opportunity to give her a long, languorous kiss. He deepens the kiss as he draws her close to him, a firm hand on her lower back, and her breath hitches as he lightly bites her lip. The place where her thighs touch is impossibly slick and pulsates for want of touch. She tries to guide his hand there, but he chuckles into her mouth and shakes his head.

Suddenly, there is a knock on the door, and they both freeze – jolted out of the moment, Solas’ face goes a deep scarlet. Aenye is not so embarrassed, but fantasies aside, she does understand that it would not be ideal for her advisors to _actually_ walk in on her with her pants around her ankles and Solas’ cock in her mouth.

No matter. There are always other nooks and crannies around Skyhold to which they can retreat if the war room is needed. She quickly pulls up her breeches, tying the drawstring, then fixes the position of her breastband. Solas hastens to put away the pillow, but the damage to the arrangement of pieces on the war table may be unsalvageable. Aenye expects to hear Josephine’s complaints later. The knock at the door repeats, a little more insistent this time.

“Just a moment,” she calls out to the would-be but very polite intruder. Solas hides behind the door and Aenye can’t help but smile at his persistent blush.

Luckily, on the other side of the door is not one of her impatient advisors, but rather a diminutive servant holding a basket in one hand and a broom in the other.

“Inquisitor,” she says nervously. “The… serah Pavus said you may need some cleaning services in here. Is everything alright?”

Aenye can see Solas shoot her a glare, which she happily accepts on behalf of Dorian, and she barely stifles a laugh. So, the keen-eyed mage _did_ notice something going on.

“No, thank you, everything is under control,” she says in her most convincing voice, wondering just how red her own cheeks must be, though more from exertion than embarrassment. A thought occurs to her. “Although… could you run and let the ambassador know that our meeting in a quarter hour is canceled? Tell her the Inquisitor sent you.”

She shoots a meaningful look in Solas’ direction. The girl, oblivious, nods sharply and trots off. Aenye closes the door behind her. The clang of the wood echoes through the room as she slyly turns to Solas.

“Now, where were we?”

She is pleased to see that he is still half-hard and blushing, and he greets her hand on his chest with a yearning shudder. His mouth angles down to meet her own, tongue inquisitively probing her own. She steps a leg between his own and rubs on his thigh – his deep groan buzzes against her lips.

“ _Vhenan_ ,” he murmurs, pulling his lips away, “you are… hmm, persuasive.”

Aenye laughs into his neck, peppering the soft skin there with brief, tender kisses. Almost lazily, she runs her hand down his stomach and under his breeches – Solas does not wear smalls – and grasps his awaiting cock.

The resulting gasp almost has her undone. “Aenye…” he begins, practically breathless from her ministrations, “your postponement may not reach Sister Nightingale in time, let alone the Commander.”

“Mmm,” she hums, “I don’t care.”

He gives a throaty laugh, caressing her face between his palms as she looks up at him. Creators, how she loves his laugh. She would drink it instead of wine, given the chance. “ _They_ might, however. And you cannot postpone this meeting forever. Let us go to your chambers. Or mine, if you prefer.”

She loathes to abandon the fire she has stoked, but he is right, as he usually is. “Ever the sensible one,” she says with only a hint of disappointment, though she brightens when his hand drifts down to heartily grasp her ass as they leave the war room.

“Besides,” he says huskily into her ear as they stroll past Josephine, who barely acknowledges them, sending them only the smallest of nods as she suddenly becomes very interested in a missive on her desk. “We have some unfinished business in your quarters.”

A shock of desire shoots down towards her stomach, and she takes his hand to hasten through the main hall. Varric catches her eye from his usual post by the fireplace; she only winks at him. It is thrilling, she realizes, to be seen in this way with the elven apostate – let the diplomats and the nobles see that the pride of _this_ Dalish elf will not be cowed by their foreign and antiquated mores. There are not many in the hall at this hour, but she makes sure to smile proudly as they cross the threshold into the tower that houses her quarters.

The door shuts behind them. Aenye glimpses the gleam in Solas’ eye, and then his mouth is on hers and her back is against the cool stone wall. His kisses are now desperate, urgent – he kisses her as if he has been poisoned, and her lips carry the antidote. She responds in kind, biting his bottom lip, gasping as he leans his weight against her. She loves this about him, loves that she can rouse this intensity from beneath his usual polite facade, though she has never been fooled by it. Solas is passionate in all things, arguments and sex alike.

Passionate, and perceptive – she does not even have to ask him to grasp her wrists and drag them up above her head as he presses his lips to the sensitive hollow of her throat. He deftly takes both wrists in one of his hands and slips the other into her breeches and meets the heat that has built up between her thighs. She tests his grip on her hands, and it sends a jolt of pleasure through her that he does not let go. Instead, his finger rubs her clit slowly, too slowly, his forehead pressed to hers, brown eyes staring intently into her own.

“ _Solas_ …” she manages to pant as she writhes against his hand. He can have her coming in moments if he likes. Instead, he lets go of her wrists, drags his hand out of her smalls to grasp her by the waist and hoists her up. Her legs wrap around him, her arms clutch his lean, muscular shoulders. She kisses him as he holds her thighs – let it never be said that this mage is not strong – and he carries her up the stairs to her quarters, whispering words in _elvhen_ she does not understand in her ear all the while.

Pushing them through the door, he drops on top of her on her bedspread, in the same spot he left her in the morning. The control he showed earlier is completely abandoned – it’s as if he’s finally let go enough to just _be_ with her – and he is wild with his want of her, his kisses rough and hungry, bruising her lips with his teeth, his nimble fingers impatiently removing her clothing until it lies in a heap on the floor.

He takes a moment to look at her, and never does she feel more _seen_ than when Solas is about to fuck her.

He begins to trail kisses down her abdomen, but she can wait no longer – she catches his chin with her fingers and murmurs, “Fuck me.”

His breath hitches, and she can see that he is trembling ever so slightly as he quickly takes off his tunic and leggings. For a moment, he stands before her by the edge of the bed, completely nude, and she is suddenly struck with wonder. She admires how the firelight hits the lean and muscled lines of his pale chest, hidden from all others in his everyday humble garb. She loves how his thigh flexes as his knee comes up onto the mattress. She quivers as she looks at the sharp lines of his lower torso, which leads her gaze to his cock, which glistens at the tip – her teasing has not gone unnoticed.

Despite her earlier request, this she cannot resist – a smile on her lips, she comes up to sit cross-legged at the edge of the bed and leans forward to take his cock into her mouth. The moan that escapes his lips, then, elicits a moan from her too, though she is not as able to enunciate it as easily. His arms brace against the frame of the canopy of her bed as she moves her mouth along the shaft, tongue swirling around the tip, and he gives another soft groan when her fingers come to play with his sensitive balls. He shifts his hips, bucking deeper into her mouth, and she is exhilarated by the _challenge_ of taking his full length – grasping his ass, she pushes him even deeper, and Solas himself seems surprised by the pleasure this brings, closed eyes flying open to meet hers.

“ _Vhenan_!” It’s an exclamation, like calling to the gods she knows he does not believe in. She goes a moment longer before withdrawing, and he drops down to kiss her. “ _Vhenan_ , there is no need…”

She only shushes him and returns his kiss, which is gentle, almost too sweet after the thrilling vulgarity of what she has just done. In a moment, his head is between her thighs again, and there is no teasing in the movement of his tongue this time, or in the insistent pinching of her nipples with his hands. At first, he strokes her clit gently, then quicker and quicker; Aenye feels something like the roaring of the sea in her temples and the pit of her stomach, and it increases in volume and intensity with every lick. Soon, the strokes turn to suction, and she squirms against his mouth, the pressure building until it is almost unbearable, but it would be even more unbearable for him to stop.

When he does stop, it’s only for a moment, and his fingers quickly replace where his tongue was, rubbing insistently, devotedly at her clit.

“Would you like to come, Aenye?” he breathes huskily, looking up at her.

“ _Yes_ ,” she exhales.

“Then come, _vhenan_ ,” and his mouth descends back upon her.

She was close before, and now, resisting the rumble of the ocean is impossible. The wave builds, and builds, until the crest comes crashing over her, leaving her gasping in its wake. Her thighs shudder around him one last time. Behind her closed eyelids are only stars, for a few moments.

She sees him watching her, lids heavy and eyes dark once more.

“Solas—”

He does not let her finish her call. She shifts to make room on the mattress as he lowers his hips between her legs, guiding himself into her opening, and _heaves_ into her. The first thrust makes them both gasp in tandem. She is so slick, so full of him – her legs hook behind his waist as he thrusts into her, his forearms on either side of her shoulders, tongue dancing with her own as he kisses her. Her hands come to grip his firm ass, guiding the rhythm of his thrusts with the press of her fingers into his skin.

He moves slow at first, then increasing the pace, and her toes curl from the fullness. Her nails dig lightly into his shoulders, his upper back, and he groans at that, too. Soon, his thrusts reach a fever pitch, and then he is gasping, groaning in her ear.

“Yes,” she whispers, “Come for me, _vhenan_.”

And so he does, laying a flurry of kisses on her neck and her cheeks and even her eyelids in the moments after he ends his frantic thrusting. They lay like this for a moment - she kisses his forehead, free of the pinch that she often sees between his eyebrows. He strokes her cheek, fingers trailing down the side of her body to rest by her hip. Finally, he rolls off her and passes her a fresh towel from one of the drawers at her bedside, which she takes gratefully to clean herself. He lays on his side, lazy and comfortable in his nakedness, head perched on his hand.

“Good?” he asks, fingers idly stroking her arm and torso.

In reply, she only sighs contentedly and snuggles up to him to tenderly take his chin into her hand. He takes the opportunity to kiss her gently on the forehead, and his hand comes to her waist to pull her closer.

“What were you saying, when you were carrying me up the stairs? I didn’t catch any of it.”

The blush from before appears once again on his cheeks, and he is suddenly bashful. “Ah. There are expressions to describe these feelings… they are difficult to translate, and not used by the Dalish, I suspect.”

Her lip curls mischievously. “What sorts of feelings?”

He smiles and brings his hand lower to grip her ass.

“Anticipation. Lust. Love. I had not thought I would feel them again.”

The words fill her heart with affection, and she hums as she nuzzles into his chest. Solas presses a kiss to the top of her head, and she chuckles.

“What is it?” he asks.

“Not a bad way to skip a council meeting, I’d say.”

His chest rumbles as his laugh mingles with her own. His gentle fingers stroke her hair as he holds her to him. How happy she is, bathed in firelight and the love of this ineffable, incredible man. Would that they could stay here for all time, never to venture into a nasty bog or to fight demons ever again. For now, Aenye Lavellan shall have to content herself with these stolen moments, few though they may be.


End file.
